A study in Pink with Sherlock and his daughter
by Ibelieveinsherlock247
Summary: John meets the mysterious Sherlock Holmes and his daughter and guess what their both geniuses.uh oh. solving crimes and running after criminals and the biggest battles of the brains.the first of the Sherlock and his daughter series. Please review
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Sherlock characters just Hannah

"Hannah!" yelled the dark haired man that was being strangled at the end of a deserted alley by a hulk of a man.

A twelve year old girl balanced on a fire escape a few feet away.

The girl was wearing a grey overcoat, black jeans, toxic yellow worn doc martins, a wine scarf and a Nirvana t- shirt.

Her dyed henna red hair that had once been as dark as the mans in the alleys was cut in a bob

After hearing herself being summoned she gracefully and quietly hopped off the exit and strode over to the man and tapped him on the shoulder, the thug turned and smiled at the girl imaging how he was going to snap the pixies neck.

Little did he know?

Quick as a flash the girl whipped out the arm held behind her back and whacked the man across the head with the metal pipe held in her small fist, the man dropped at her feet. Her blue eyes sparkled with glee

"Moron" she giggled as the man she shared her genetics with raised to his feet

"Good thinking" he gasped for air.

Sherlock and Hannah began walking away when Sherlock stopped and looked at Hannah "did you get the milk?" He inquired

Hannah rolled her eyes

"Yes dad" she sighed and walked over to a nearby bin and pulled a wait rose shopping bag from behind it and offered it to her Father

"No thanks, I think I'll let you do it" with that Sherlock walked off

Hannah groaned and followed her dad trying to keep up with his long strides.

Yes that was an average day for father and daughter.


	2. Chapter 2

John Watson limped across the park leaning heavily on his metal cane

"John! John Watson!" Shouted a heavy man sitting on one bench as he rose from it and stuck out his hand

"Mike, Mike Stamford we were at Bart's to together" he smiled

"Oh yeah hi Mike" they shook hands

"Yeah, I know I've gotten fat , I heard you were aboard somewhere getting shot at, what happened?" He asked John looked down uncomfortable

"I got shot" Stamford's smile dropped a little.

The two men sat on the bench drinking coffee from take away cups

"So still at Bart's then?"John asked

"Yeah, teaching now" John nodded "bright young things like we were... god i hate them" the two men chuckled

"So staying in town until you get your self sorted then?" Mike asked

"Can't afford London on an army pension" he sighed

"Ah but you couldn't bare to be anywhere else" Stamford grinned "you could get a flat share" Mike suggested

"Cmon, who would want me as a flatmate?" John said.

Stamford chuckled

"What?" Asked John curious

"You're the second person to say that to me today" he replied smiling

"Who was the first?" John asked

John and Mike entered the lab where a tall dark haired man stood doing a experiment, he looked up when they entered

"Different from my day" said John

"You have no idea" chuckled Stamford

"Mike can I borrow your phone, mine has no signal"

**Sorry bout that... keeps going in Chapter three!**


	3. Chapter 3

note: I would like to say sorry for any mistakes

"And whats wrong with a land-line?" Stamford sighed as he checked his pockets

"I prefer to text" the man replied

"Sorry left it in my coat" said Stamford checking his pockets

"Uh here is mine" John offered the man his phone

"Oh thank you" the man stepped forward and flipped the phone screen to Revel the keys

"Afghanistan or Iraq ?" the man asked with out looking from the phones screen, John looked shocked , Stamford just smiled.

"Sorry...?" asked John

"which was it Afghanistan or Iraq?" The man repeated and turned his head toward John

"Afghanistan , how...?-" he was interrupted by Molly entering the room.

The mousy woman stepped forward and handed the man a terracotta mug

"Ah Molly, what happened to the lipstick?" He inquired

"It wasn't working for me" she smiled a fake smile

"Oh i thought it was a big improvement you're mouths to small now" he said and walked away raising the mug to his lips, he walked over to the microscope

"How do you feel about the violin?" the man asked

"Sorry?"

"The violin I play it when I'm thinking sometimes I don't talk for days would that bother you? maybe flat mates should know the worse about each other" he looked at John and smiled

"Are- , you told him about me ?" John asked Stamford

"Not a word" he replied

"Then who said anything about flatmates?"

"I did ,said to Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for" the man shrugged on his coat an wrapped a blue scarf around his neck

"Now here he is just after lunch with a old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan, wasn't a difficult leap"

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" Asked John shifted his standing position , the man ignored the question and kept talking

"Got my eye on a place in central London together we should be able to afford it, we meet there tomorrow seven o clock. Sorry gotta dash think I left my riding crop and Hannah in the mortuary" with that he walked to the door

"Is that it?" John asked turning to face the man

"Is that what?" Sherlock asked

"We've only just met and now were going to look at a flat together"

"Problem?" the man asked John smiled and looked at Stamford and then to the taller man

"We don't know a thing about each other, i don't know where were meeting, i don't even know your name!" John waited for the dark haired man to answer

"I know your an army doctor recently sent home from the military, you have a brother who's worried about you but you go to him for help because you don't approve of him possibly because he's an alcoholic or more likely he just left his wife , and I know your therapist thinks your limps sociosmatic quite correctly I'm afraid its enough to be going on don't you think?" With that the man opened the door and was half way through, then doubled backed and said

"The names Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221 B Baker Street' Mr Holmes winked at John and said to Stamford

"Afternoon"


	4. Chapter 4

John knocked on the door of 221 Baker street just as Mr Holmes exited a cab ' Hello' Mr Holmes said as he walked up to him 'Mr Holmes' said John 'please call me Sherlock' and the two men shook hands ' well this is a prime spot , must be expensive ' Stated John 'ah Mrs Hudson the land Lady gave me a deal , few years back her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida , I was able to help her out' Sherlock knocked again ' wait you stopped her husband being executed?' 'Oh no I insured it' just then a lady in her late fifties opened the door ' Ah Sherlock' Mrs Hudson stepped forward and hugged the detective and he kissed her a the cheek 'Mrs Hudson Dr John Watson' Sherlock gestured towards John ' Ah lovely to meet you' she said warmly 'the same to you ' John said ' Uh Sherlock where is that daughter of yours?' Mrs Hudson asked 'wait what daughter?' Asked John alarmed Sherlock looked around realized she wasn't their ' I think I left her in Wait Roses again' John turned to him 'I'm sorry i didn't realize you had a daughter' John said 'the girl you met in the lab didn't you hear me?' Sherlock said while texting on his phone 'oh I heard all the stuff you just not about her' explained John. Just then the girl for yesterday ran up her face a deep red like her hair 'Ah Hannah there you are' said Sherlock said bored ' tube back from wait rose nice?' He teased ' it wasn't wait rose' she said through gritted teeth 'oh?' Asked Sherlock ' it was SELFRIDGE'S you left me in this time!' She yelled and calmed herself then turned to John ' Ah Dr Watson my names Hannah as you already know' she shot her father a dirty look' hello ' john shook her hand and then she hugged Mrs Hudson 'Shall we ? ' asked Sherlock not fazed by his daughters outburst they all trampled up the stairs Sherlock and Hannah walked into the living room , Sherlock stood by the kitchen and Hannah in front of the window ' oh this could be nice , very nice indeed' John said ' yes my thoughts exactly' said Sherlock as John went over and stood next to him 'so we just moved in' 'as soon as we get all the rubbish out' John looked embarrassed 'well obviously we can straighten things up a bit' said Sherlock and he strode over and chucked some files onto the overcrowded table and Hannah stuck a knife in some bills on the mantle 'that's a skull' said John pointing his cane to the skull on the mantle 'A friend' said Sherlock 'well when I say friend...' Sherlock walked over to the couch and began taking his coat off ' well what you think Dr Watson, theirs three bedrooms if you been needing a third, she said him a wink ' of course we'll be needing three bedrooms' said John like it was obvious ' oh don't worry theirs all sorts round here ,Mrs Turner next door has married ones' she whispered the last few words. Mrs Hudson walked into the kitchen ' oh Sherlock the mess you made' she said. John fluffed the union Jack pillow and sat down on the faded red armchair ' I wouldn't do that...' Sherlock tried to warn the doctor but it was too late , the man was just about to get comfy when Hannah came from behind and took the Union Jack pillow from under him 'Oof' exclaimed

John 'Hannah' said Sherlock 'No' she said stubbornly made her way to her bedroom she nearly made it but a pair of balled up socks hit her on the head she turned eyes full of rage before Sherlock could react there was Union Jack pillow spinning sideways like a ninja star straight at his face bulls eye . It hit his face with a rewarding THUMP! ' oh you asked for it' yelled Sherlock , he ran towards his daughter and slung her over his shoulder and ran into the bathroom , a loud splash was heard ' oh no ' said Mrs Hudson , Sherlock came out of the bathroom with large wet splashes on his shirt and trousers ' excuse me what did you do? ' then a squelching noise came from the entrance to the hall they all looked around to find a dripping wet Hannah , the girl sat down on the towel her father had spread on the right seat of the couch and flipped open a KISS magazine ' so you still staying after that little episode? ' she asked ' sorry what?' Asked John ' so what if you're a little eccentric ' he finished ' dad pay up' she said without looking from the magazine and placed her hand under her father nose , Sherlock looked annoyed and slapped a twenty pound note into her palm ' nice doing business with you' she

Grinned 'so you two had a bet that after that stunt I would leave? , don't be stupid I'm a solider ' he grinned ' that was what I said ' she giggled .after a while (when Hannah was dry) ' what about these suicides Sherlock ? That that would be right up your street, three exactly the same' says Mrs Hudson ' four, there's been a fourth' just as Sherlock was looking out the window and a squad car pulled up DI Lestrade ran up the stairs ' where?' 'Brixton, lourstein Gardens' 'what's new about this one? You wouldn't come get me if their wasn't something different ' ' you know how the never leave notes ' 'yea' ' this one did, will you come' ' who's on forensics?' 'Anderson' ' Anderson won't work with me' ' he won't be your helper!' 'But I NEED a helper'

'Bring Hannah!' 'Ah Hannah's coming anyway' 'will you come?' 'Not in a police car I'll be right behind' ' thank you' the DI hurriedly left. Sherlock jumped up in the air in joy ' Brilliant! , yes four serial suicides and now a note , Ah its Christmas, Mrs Hudson we'll be late might need food' as him and Hannah shrugged into their coats 'I'm your land lady dear not your house keeper' ' something cold will do, John have a cup of tea make yourself at home, don't wait up' with that Sherlock and Hannah were running down the stairs 'oh look at them dashing about my husband was just the same but your more of the sitting down type , I can tell. I'll make you that cuppa, you rest that leg' she made for the door ' DAMN MY LEG!' shouted John , Mrs Hudson looked startled ' sorry I am so sorry just sometimes the bloody thing' he said' I understand dear , I got a hip' John picked up a newspaper ' cup of tea will be lovely thank you' Mrs Hudson walked into the kitchen ' just this once dear , my not your house keeper' John ignored the statement ' couple of biscuits too if you got em ' said John still staring at the newspaper ' not your house keeper' she reminded him and went down the stairs ' you're a doctor' John looked up to find Sherlock standing in the door way in the middle of putting his gloves on ' in fact you're an army doctor' he finished putting his gloves John stood up 'yes' John replied ' any good?' ' yes very good' ' seen a lot of injuries , violent deaths' Sherlock walked towards John ' yes enough for a life time' ' wanna see some more?' ' oh god yes' the two men made their way down the stairs ' sorry Mrs Hudson I'll skip the tea' ' wait all of you ?' Sherlock strode to Mrs Hudson and took the woman by her shoulders ' possible suicides four of them ,why stay at home when theirs finally something fun going on!' He kissed her cheek ' look at you all happy it's not decent or a good example for Hannah ' she playfully smacked him on the arm ' oh who cares about decent , the game Mrs Hudson , is on' and with that Sherlock strode out the door and onto baker street ' where's Hannah? ' John asked ' haven't the faintest ' said Sherlock ' wait wha- you managed to lose your daughter in that amount of time?' John said appalled at Sherlock's lack of care ' TAXI!' Shouted Sherlock as he stuck his arm out to attract the attention of a nearby cabbie

'Alright you got questions' said Sherlock as they sat in a taxi on their way to Brixton ' yea where are we going?' ' a crime scene next ? ' ' who are you and what do you do?' ' what do you think?' 'I'd say private detective' 'but? ' 'the police don't go to private detectives' ' I'm a consulting detective , the only one in the world , I invented the job' ' what does that mean?' 'It means when the police are out of their depth which is always they consult me' ' but the police don't consult amateur's' Sherlock shot him a poisonous glare ' when I met you for the first time yesterday, I said Afghanistan or Iraq , you looked surprised' 'yes how did you know? ' ' I didn't know I saw , your hair cut and the way you held yourself said military , your conversation as you entered the room '' bit different from my day'' so trained at Bart's , army doctor , oblivious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrist , you've been abroad but not sun bathing. Your limps really bad when you walk but when you stand you don't ask for a chair like you've forgotten about it so at least partly sociosmatic so the original of when it happen were traumatic so wounded in action , wounded in action , sun tan. Afghanistan or Iraq.' ' you said i had a therapist ' 'soicosmatic limp of course you have a therapist and then theirs your brother the phone expensive mp3 player email enabled you're looking for a flat share you wouldn't waste money on this it was a gift , scratches on the screen , it's been in the same pocket as keys and coins, it was an expensive you wouldn't treat it like that , so it had a previous owner next bits easy' ' the engraving? ' Harry Watson , clearly a family member this is a young man , brother not father who's given you his old phone could be a cousin but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live unlikely you've got an extended family not one you're not close to at least so brother it is. Clara now who's Clara? three kisses says it's a romantic attachment expensive phone says wife not girl-friend must have given it to him recently this models six months old marriage in trouble, he just given it away if she'd left him he would have kept it people do sentiment no he wanted rid of it he left her, he gave the phone to you saying keep in touch you're looking for cheap housing but who won't go to him for help that says you have problems with him , maybe you liked his wife maybe you don't like his drinking.' 'How can you possibly now about the drinking?' Sherlock smiled ' shot it in the dark good one though, power connection scratch marks every night he goes to plug it in

But his hands are shaking never see a drunks phone without them never see a sober man's phone with them, there you go you were right ' 'right about what?' 'The police don't consult amateur's' ' that was, amazing' ' you think so ?' 'It was extradinary ' 'that's not people usually say' 'what do usually they say?' 'Piss off' Sherlock said with a smile and John smiled too

'So did i get anything wrong?'asked Sherlock ' Harry and me don't get on , never have , Clara and Harry split up , three months ago their getting a divorce , Harry is a drinker' ' spot on then didn't expect to get everything right' 'Harry's short for Harriet' Sherlock stopped ' Harry's your sister ' ' what exactly am i supposed to be doing here?' 'SISTER!' Sherlock hissed ' no really' 'sister there's always something' he hissed 'Hello freak' said a pretty curly haired woman leaning against a squad car ' I'm here to see DI Lestrade ' 'why' 'I was invited' why' ' I think he wants me to take a look' ' well you know what I think' ' always sally , I also know you didn't make it home last night ' Sherlock ducked under the police tape John was about to follow but Sally stopped him' woah, who's this ' she demanded ' a colleague of mine a Dr John Watson , Dr Watson this is Sargent Sally Donovan' She Stared at Sherlock ' a colleague . . . How did you get a colleague, did he follow you home?' She asked John ' would it be better if i just waited-' started John ' -no' interrupted Sherlock ' oh look it's the Addams family reunion' mocked Sargent Donovan , just at the end of the road a bike was speeding towards them , cycling the bike was Hannah. Hannah cycled up ' ah there you are ' said Sherlock ' where this time? ' he asked his daughter ' speedy's this time ' she panted ' Mrs Hudson asked... ' she gulped air ' to get milk' she finished Sherlock lifted the tape to let Hannah peddle the bike in,on her way she ''accidentally'' rode over sergeant Donovan's foot 'sorry sargent Donnovan' said Hannah sweetly. The three walked up to the gate of the house when Anderson walked up to them 'Anderson here we are again

She leads the boys and Hannah towards the house. Sherlock looks all around the area and at the ground as they approach. As they reach the pavement, a man dressed in a coverall comes out of the house.

"Ah, Anderson. Here we are again."

Anderson looks at him with distaste, "It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?"

Sherlock takes another deep breathe through his nose, "Quite clear. And is your wife away for long?"

Anderson rolls his eyes, "Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that."

"Your deodorant told me that."

Anderson looks at him with confusion, "My deodorant?"

"It's for men," said Sherlock

"Well, of course it's for men! I'm wearing it!"

"So is Sergeant Donovan." said Hannah 'can we speed this up?' Hannah looked at her father

Anderson looks round in shock at Donovan. Sherlock sniffs pointedly,

"Ooh, and I think it just vaporized. May I go in?"

Anderson turns back and points at him angrily, "Now look: whatever you're both trying to imply ..."

Sherlock shook his head, "I'm not implying anything. I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over. And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees."

Anderson and Donovan stare at him in horror. He smiles smugly, then turns and goes into the house. John walks past Donovan, briefly looking down to her knees, then follows Sherlock inside. Hannah smiled and pushed passed John and walked behind her father

Sherlock leads them into a room on the ground floor where Lestrade is putting on a coverall. Sherlock points to a pile of similar items.

Sherlock turns to John, "You need to wear one of these."

Lestrade looks at John, "Who's this?"

"He's with me," said Sherlock as he takes off his gloves.

"But who is he?"

"I said he's with me," Sherlock hissed.

Hannah pulls out her own neon orange latex gloves from her grey overcoat John raised an eyebrow

'I get them custom made, I need my own in this line of work' John and Hannah smiled

Sherlock gets up from the ground, "So where are we?"

Lestrade picks up another pair of latex gloves, "Upstairs."


	5. Chapter 5

Lestrade leads the men and Hannah up a circular staircase. Lestrade, John are wearing coveralls together with white cotton coverings over their shoes, and latex gloves. Sherlock is putting latex gloves on as they go up the stairs.

"I can give you two minutes," Lestrade warns him.

"May need longer," Sherlock said calmly.

"Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long. Some kids found her," Lestrade informs him.

He leads them into a room two stories above the ground floor. The room is empty except for a women's body is lying face down on the bare floorboard in the middle of the room. She is wearing a pink overcoat and high-heeled shoes. Her hands are flat on the floor either side of her head. Sherlock walks a few steps into the room and then stops, holding one hand out in front of himself as he focuses on the corpse. Behind him

"Aren't you scared?"

Hannah looks at him with confusion, "Why?"

John shrugs, "There's a dead body in front of you."

"I see dead people all the time' Hannah informs him.

"Oh, okay…" John says awkwardly and stood there silently."

Sherlock stands and the four of them stood there silently for several long seconds then Sherlock looks across to Lestrade, "Shut up."

Lestrade startled, "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking. It's annoying."

Lestrade and John exchange a surprised look as Sherlock steps slowly forward until he reaches the side of the corpse.

Hannah walked over and looked at the body

"Got anything?" Lestrade looks at Sherlock.

"Not much," said Sherlock as he gets his cell phone from his pocket and begins typing on it.

"She's German," said Anderson who is leaning casually against the doorway, "Rache: it's German for revenge. She could be trying to tell us something…" Sherlock walked quickly towards the door and now beings to close it in Anderson's face, "Yes, thank you for your input."

"So she's German?" Lestrade asked.

"Of course she's not. She's from out of town, though. Intended to stay in London for one night before returning home to Cardiff," said Hannah as she looked at her phone"So far, so obvious."

"Sorry obvious?" John raised a brow.

"What about the message, though?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock ignores him and looks at John, "Doctor Watson, what do you think?"

"Of the message?"

"Of the body. You're a medical man."

Lestrade raised his hand to stop him, "Wait, no we have a whole team right outside."

"They won't work with me."

"I'm breaking every rule letting you and Hannah in here," Lestrade informs him.

"Yes… because you need us," Sherlock whispers.

Lestrade stares at him for a moment then sigh, "Yes, I do God help me."

Sherlock ignores him and looks at John, "Doctor Watson."

"Hm?"

He looks up from the body to Sherlock and turns his head towards Lestrade.

"Oh, do as he says. Help yourself."

Lestrade turns and opens the door, "Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes."

Sherlock and John walk over to the body. Sherlock squats down on one side of it and John lowers himself to one knew on the other side.

"Well?" Sherlock raised a brow.

"What am I doing here?" John asked softly.

"Helping me make a point," Sherlock replied softly.

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent."

"Yeah, well, this more fun."

"Fun? There's a woman lying dead," John reminds him.

"Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you'd go deeper." Said Hannah as she studied the dead woman

Lestrade comes back in the room and stands just inside the doorway. John leans forward to look more closely at the woman's body. He puts his head close to her and sniffs, then lifts her right hand and looks at the skin, "Yeah… Asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs."

"You know what it was. You've read the papers."

"What, she's one of the suicides? The fourth…?"

"Sherlock – two minutes, I said. I need anything you've got."

"Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes; I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase." Said Sherlock

Lestrade looks at him with confusion, "Suitcase?"

"Umm… dad." Said Hannah

"Not now Hannah, Suitcase, yes. She's been married at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married."

"Oh, for Goodness sake, if you're just making this up."

Hannah points at the corpse's left hand, "Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewellery has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside – that means it's regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work; look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands, so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover; she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple."

"Cardiff?"

Sherlock shrugs, "It's obvious, isn't it?"

John shook his head, "It's not obvious to me."

Sherlock pauses as he looks at the two, "Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring. Her coat: it's slightly damp. She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it's dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?" Sherlock gets his phone from his pocket and shows to the other two the weather report, "Cardiff."

"That's fantastic!" John exclaimed.

"You know you do that out loud John?" said Hannah in her quiet, calm polite voice

"Sorry. I'll shut up."

"No, it's… fine," said Sherlock

"What d'you keep saying suitcase?"

Sherlock spins around the room, "Yes, where is it?"

"Umm… dad."

"Not now Hannah. She must have had a phone or an organizer. Find out who Rachel is," Sherlock demands.

"She was writing Rachel?"

"No, she was leaving an angry note in German! Of course she was writing Rachel; no other word it can be," Hannah said sarcastically, "Question is why did she wait until she was dying to write it?"

"How d'you know she had a suitcase?"

Sherlock points at Hannah "Hannah do you mind?"

Hannah nods her head, "She has a tiny splash mark on her right leg but not on her left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her right."

Sherlock nods his head and squats down by the woman's body, "Now, where is it? What have you done with it?"

"Dad, there is no case."

Slowly Sherlock raises his head and frowns up at his daughter

Lestrade nods, "There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase."

Sherlock straightens up and heads for the door yelling, "Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?"

Lestrade, John and Hannah follow him out and stops on the landing.

"Sherlock, there was no case!" Lestrade calls down.

"But they take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs, even you lot couldn't miss them.

"Right, yeah, thanks! And…?

"It's murder, all of them. I don't know how, but they're not suicides, they're killings… serial killings." He holds his hands up in front of his face in joy, "We've got ourselves a serial killer. I love those. There's always something to look forward to."

"Why are you saying that?" Lestrade yells at him.

"Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it? Someone else was here, and they took her case. So the killer must have driven her here; forgot the case was in the car."

"She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there," John suggests.

Hannah destroys the theory by saying to John , "No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She colour-coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking ..." Hannah trails off and realized what her daughter just said

"Oh. Oh!" his eyes widen and his face lights up.

"Sherlock?

"What is it, what?"

"What dad?"

"Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake," said Sherlock cheerfully.

"We can't just wait!"

"Oh, we're done waiting! Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff: find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel!" said Hannah

Sherlock reaches the bottom of the stairs and disappears from view.

"Of course, yeah but what mistake?" Lestrade calls after him.

Sherlock comes back and runs up a couple of stairs and yells ,"PINK!" and the mad detective disappears from sight.


	6. Chapter 6

Not long afterwards, John is walking down a road cursing himself for following Sherlock and Hannah in the first place. When he walked out of the crime scene he was told that Sherlock already left without him and Hannah had cycled off finding her own way home

He was getting tired and hails a passing taxi.

"Taxi!"

The taxi passes him by. John walks on down the road and shortly afterwards approaches a public telephone box. The phone inside starts to ring. Puzzled by this, he pulls open the door, goes inside and lifts the phone.

"Hello?"

"There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?" said a man voice.

John frowns, "Who's this? Who's speaking?"

"Do you see the camera Doctor Watson?"

John looks through the window and sees a CCTV camera high up on the wall of a nearby building.

"Yeah, I see it," he replied calmly.

The camera, which was pointing directly at the phone box, now turns away.

"How are you doing this?" John asked nervously.

"Get into the car, Doctor Watson."

A black car pulls up at the curb side near the phone. The male driver gets out and opens the rear door.

"I would make some sort of threat, but I'm sure your situation is quite clear to you." The phone goes dead. John puts the phone deciding whether he should get in the car or not. He opens the phone box and goes into the car. A few moments later he is sitting in the back seat of the car as it pulls away and drives off. An attractive young woman is sitting beside him, her eyes fixed on her phone as she types on it.

"Hello," he greeted her.

"Hi," smiling brightly at him for a moment before returning her gaze to her phone.

"What's your name, then?"

"Er… Anthea."

John raised a brow, "Is that your real name?"

Anthea looks up at him and smiles, "No."

John nods, and then turns to look out of the window briefly before turning back again.

"I'm John," he introduce himself.

Anthea nods her without glancing up at him, "Yes, I know."

"Any point in asking where I'm going?"

Anthea shook her head, "None at all."

She turns and smiles briefly at him, then looks back at her phone again, "John."

John nods his head, "Okay." Sometime later, the car pulls into an abandon warehouse. A man in a suit is standing in the center of the area, leaning casually on a black umbrella as he watches the car stop and John get out. The man offers him a chair to sit, but John refuse and stood there like a soldier.

'If you do move into, um ... two hundred and twenty-one B Baker Street, I'd be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way," said the man as he looks through the notebook that was owned by John's therapist.

"Why?"

"Because you're not wealthy," the man explains to him.

"In exchange for what?" John raised a brow.

"Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you'd feel ... uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he and Hannah are up to."

"Why?"

"I worry about them. Constantly."

"That's nice of you," John said sarcastically.

"But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you might call a ... difficult," the man explains as he plays with his umbrella.

John's phone sounds another text alert. Again he immediately fishes the phone out and looks at the message which reads:

Baker Street.

Come at once

If convenient.

If inconvenient, come anyway.

SH

"No," John replies.

"But I haven't mentioned a figure."

John shook his head, "Don't bother."

"You're very loyal, very quickly," the man gave him a mysterious smile.

"No, I'm not. I'm just not interested."

"Could it be that you've decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?"

"Who says I trust him?" You don't seem the kind to make friends easily."

"Are we done?" John frowns at him

The man smirks, "I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from your left hand that's not going to happen."

John very reluctantly lowers his hand, holding it out flat with the palm down. The man takes it in both of his own hands and looks at it closely, "Remarkable."

"What is?"

The man walks away, "Most people blunder round this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield. You've seen it already, haven't you?"

"What's wrong with my hand?"

"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand," the man points out."

John nods his head.

"Your therapist thinks its post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you're haunted by memories of your military service. You're not haunted by the war, Doctor Watson ... you miss it."

The man leans closer to him. Reluctantly John's eyes rise up to meet him.

"Welcome back," the man whispers and starts to walk away as John's voice went off.

The man casually twirls his umbrella as he goes, "Time to choose a side, Doctor Watson."

…

When John walks into the flat the first thing he saw was Sherlock laying on the couch breathing heavily as he repeatedly clenches his left fist.

John looks at him with confusion, "What are you doing?"

"Nicotine patch. Helps me think." Sherlock said calmly.

"Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work."

John walks further into the room, "It's good news for breathing."

Sherlock rolls his eyes, "Oh, breathing. Breathing's boring."

John frowns as he looks more closely at Sherlock's arm, "Is that three patches?"

"It's a three-patch problem," said Sherlock as he presses his hands together in a prayer position under his chin.

'where's Hannah?'

"I'm here John" John hears a quiet voice from in the kitchen Hannah's sitting at the table looking very pale 'are you alright ?' asked John 'she gets sick, born with a weak immune system' Sherlock said without looking at John. Hannah nodded weakly 'I'll be fine tomorrow' she waved Johns concern off

He walks toward Sherlock who was still lying on the couch with his eyes close.

"Well? You asked me to come. I'm assuming it's important."

Sherlock doesn't respond instantly, but his eyes snap open but do not bother to turn his head to look at John, "Oh yes, of course. Can I borrow your phone?"

John raised a brow, "My phone?"

"Don't wanna use mine. Always a chance that the number will be recognized. It's on the website," he explains.

"Mrs Hudson's got a phone."

"Yeah, she downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn't hear.

"I was the other side of London!" John raised his voice.

"There was no hurry," he said mildly.'why didn't you ask Hannah? '

'she was too weak to get up from the table'

John glares at him as he gazes calmly at the ceiling before closing his eyes again. John digs his phone out of his pocket and holds it towards him, "Here."

Without opening his eyes, Sherlock holds out his right hand with the palm up. John steps forward and slaps the phone into his hand. Sherlock slowly lifts his arm and puts his hands together again. John turns and walks a few paces away before turning around again, "So what's this about – the case?"

"Her case," Sherlock whispers.

"Her case?"

"It's no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it."Sherlock holds the phone out towards John.

"On my desk there's a number. I want you to send a text."

John half-smiles in angry disbelief, "You brought me here… to send a text."

"Text, yes. The number on my desk," Sherlock raised his voice.

John walks toward the window and starts to look out.

"What's wrong?"

"Just met a friend of yours."

Sherlock frowns in confusion, "A friend?"

"An enemy," John corrects himself.

Sherlock sigh with relief, "Oh. Which one?"

"Your arch-enemy, according to him," he explains, "Do people have arch-enemies?"

Sherlock looks towards him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, "Did he offer you money to spy on me?"

"Yes."

"Did you take it?"

John shook his head, "No."

"Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time."

"Who is he?"

"The most dangerous man you've ever met, and not my problem right now," he said softly, "On my desk, the number!"

John gives him a dark look but Sherlock has already look but Sherlock ignores him, so John walks over to the desk and picks up a piece of paper taken from a luggage label. He looks at the name on the paper, "Jennifer Wilson, That was… hang on wasn't that the dead woman?"

"Yes, that's not important. Just enter the number."

"Yes. That's not important. Just enter the number," Sherlock demand.

Shaking his head, John gets his phone out and starts to type the number onto it.

"Are you doing it?"

"Yes,"

"Have you done it?"

"Ye… hang on!" John yells at him.

"These words exactly: "What happened at Lourstein Gardens? I must have blacked out.""

John starts to type but looks briefly across to Sherlock as if concerned at what he just said. Sherlock continues, "Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come."

John frowns at Sherlock, "You blacked out?"

"What? No. No!" Sherlock yells as he got up from the couch and starts walking towards John.

"Type and Send it. Quickly! Hannah, come to the living room."

' I'll try' said Hannah weakly

Hannah walked into the living room like her legs were made of lead she picked up her father's blue dressing gown and put it on and sat on the couch, John then saw Hannah had brought a pink suitcase with her and had thrown it down on a chair in front of her Dad

"That's ... that's the pink lady's case. That's Jennifer Wilson's case."

Sherlock looks at the suitcase closely, "Yes, obviously."

As John continues to stare, Sherlock looks up at him and then rolls his eyes, "Oh, perhaps I should mention: I didn't kill her."

"I never said you did."

Sherlock shrugs, "Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact I that have her case, it's a perfectly logical assumption."

"Do people usually assume you're the murderer?"

"Yes," Hannah uttered as she laid her head on the arm rest looking at the suitcase.

Sherlock smirks, "Now and then, yes."

"Okay, how did you get this?"

"Looking."

"Where?"

"The killer must have driven her to lourstein Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention – particularly a man, which is statistically more likely – so obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from lourstein Gardens and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took me less than an hour to find the right skip," Hannah quietly explains.

John raised a brow, "Pink. You got all that because you realized the case would be pink?"

"Well, it had to be pink, obviously."

"Why didn't I think of that?" John whispers to himself.

"Because you're an idiot."

John stares at him; Sherlock makes a soothing gesture with one hand, "No, no, no, don't look like that. Practically everyone is."

"Now, look. Do you see what's missing?" said Sherlock as he looks down at the case.

"From the case? How could I?"

Both Sherlock and Hannah gave him a disappointed look, as if they thought he was an idiot.

John clears his throat, "Okay then… what's missing from her suitcase?"

"Her phone," both Sherlock and Hannah whispers.


	7. Chapter 7

"Her phone. Where's her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, there's no phone in the case. We know she had one that's her number there; you just texted it," Sherlock points at the little paper John was holding.

"Maybe she left it at home," John suggests.

Sherlock puts his hands onto the arms of the chair and raises himself up so that he can lower his feet to the floor, then sits down properly on the chair, "She has a string of lovers and she's careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home."

John looks at the phone that was resting on the arm of the chair, "Why did I just send that text?"

"Well, the question is: where is her phone now?" said Hannah

"She could have lost it."

"Yes, or…"Hannah said with a small smile 'Dad where's my antibiotics?'

'The med cabinet, as usual'

Hannah got up and poured herself a large glass out water and took two horse pills from each of her prescription bottles labelled: _Holmes, Hannah_ _prescript for weak immune system _and the second _Holmes, Hannah prescript for brittle bone _she walked back into the living room and sat crossed legged next to her father and knocked back the two pills and took a gulp of water

'Better?' asked Sherlock, Hannah nodded

Hannah puts her head on the her father's arm

Sherlock looked back to John

"The murderer ... You two think the murderer has the phone?"

"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone," Sherlock explains.

"Sorry, what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer?! What good will that do?" John asked nervously.

When he said that his phone begins to ring, John looks across Hannah and Sherlock as the phone continues to ring.

"A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just found that phone they'd ignore a text like that, but the murderer would panic."

"Have you talked to the police?" John looks up at Sherlock.

"Four people are dead. There isn't time to talk to the police."

"So why are you talking to me?"

Sherlock reaches behind the door to take his overcoat from the hook. As he looks across towards John he notices that something is missing from the mantelpiece.

"Mrs Hudson took my skull."

"So I'm basically filling in for your skull?"

"Relax, you're doing fine," said Sherlock as he puts on his jacket.

"Why didn't you tell all of this to Hannah?" John points at her.

"Because, she knows all this already."

Sherlock looks down at John, "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, you could just sit there and watch telly. Hannah put on your coat on."

Hannah weakly puts the grey overcoat on her Father helping her put it on

'Bring your meds' Hannah walked away and went it to the kitchen where she left them before

"What, you want me to come with you two?" John asks.

"I like company when I go out, and I think better when I talk aloud. The skull just attracts attention, so ..."

John gives him a quick smile.

"Problem?" Sherlock looks at him with confusion.

John nods, "Yeah, Sergeant Donovan."

Sherlock looks away, "What about her?"

" She said ... You get off on this. You both enjoy it."

"And I said "dangerous", and here you are."

Instantly Sherlock and Hannah turn and walk out of the door. John sits there considerately for a few seconds, and then almost angrily leans onto his cane to push himself to his feet and head for the door, "Damn it!"

Not long afterwards, John catches up to Sherlock and Hannah in the street and they continue down the road.

"Where are we going dad?" Hannah asks as she looks at him.

"Northumberland Street's a five-minute walk from here," said Sherlock without glancing at her.

"You think he's stupid enough to go there?" John asks.

"No – I think he's brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones. They're always so desperate to get caught."

'why?' asked John

"Appreciation! Applause! At long last the spotlight. That's the frailty of genius John. It needs an audience."

Johns looks pointedly at him, "Yeah."

While they were walking down Sherlock starts to spin, "This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything. Because all of his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go. Think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?"

"Who?" John asked

Sherlock shrugs "Haven't the faintest. Hungry?"

Lowering his hands, he leads John and Hannah onwards and into a small restaurant. The waiter near the door clearly knows him and gestures to a table at the front window.

"Thank you," said Sherlock as he takes his coat off, sits down on the bench seat at the side of the table and immediately turns sideways so that he can see clearly out of the window., John sits down on the other bench seat with his back to the window, and takes off his jacket.

"Here's an extra chair for you Miss," said the waiter as he brings in an extra chair to the table.

Hannah smiles up at him, "Thank you."

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it."

"He isn't just gonna ring the doorbell, though, is he? He'd need to be mad."

The owner of the restaurant comes over, clearly pleased to see Sherlock, "Sherlock! Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free."

"Ah signorina Hannah, you get more beautiful every day."

"Grazie! Angelo."

"Come stai? (How are you)" Angelo askes.

"la mia malattia è stata sempre con me, ma io sto bene, grazie per avermelo chiesto [ my illness has been getting at I'm okay, thank you for asking]."Hannah replies in a flawless accent

Mi dispiace di sentire che, l'acqua per il farmaco? [ i'm sorry to hear that, water for your medication ?] Angelo askes

Hannah nods her head, "si, grazie (yes, thank you)

ti piacerebbe un po 'di cibo? [would you like some food?] Angelo asked

vorrei solo un po 'di pane all'aglio, ma solo un po' perché il mio stomaco [i would just like some garlic bread but just a little because my stomach]

il tuo desiderio è un ordine [your wish is my command] Angelo smiled at her and turned to Sherlock

He lays a couple of menus on the table, "Mr Holmes your daughter is a bright young lady," he complimented.

"Thank you Angelo," said Sherlock without glancing at him.

"You speak Italian?" John looks at Hannah with amazement.

Hannah nods, "I like langue's."

"On the house for you, your daughter, and your date," said Angelo with delight.

Sherlock looks at John, "Do you want to eat?"

"I'm not his date!" John argued.

"This man got me off a murder charge," Angelo praised

"This is Angelo," Sherlock introduce him to John.

"Three years ago we successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking," he explains.

"they cleared my name," Angelo looks at John.

"I cleared it a bit. Anything happening opposite?"

"Nothing."

"But for this man, I'd have gone to prison."

"I'll get a candle for the table. It's more romantic," said Angelo as he walks away.

"I'm not his date!" John yells at him.

"Are you and dad dating?" Hannah asks."No!'

"You may as well eat. We might have a long wait," said Sherlock as he puts down the menu.

Angelo comes back with a small glass bowl containing a lit tea-light. He puts it onto the table and a little plate of Garlic Bread and a glass of water on the table.

"Grazie!"

Hannah's hands began to shake a little bit Sherlock picked up the glass of water and placed it front of Hannah he looked at her sternly, Hannah nodded and pulled the two bottles from her pocket and opened the two bottles and shook one out from each and knocked it back with water, she forgot to put the bottles back

Later, John has a plate of food in front of him and is eating from it. Sherlock's attention is fixed out of the window and he is quietly drumming his fingers on the table, "People don't have arch-enemies."

"Sorry?"

"In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn't happen."

"Doesn't it? Sounds a bit dull," said Sherlock as he looks out of the window.

"So who did I meet?"

"What do real people have, then, in their 'real lives'?"

"Friends and family; people they know; people they like; people they don't like ... Girlfriends, boyfriends ..."

"Yes, well, as I was saying dull."

"You don't have a girlfriend, then?"

"Girlfriend? No, not really my area."

John looks at Sherlock then to Hannah and asks himself how the Sherlock had Hannah in the first place if girlfriends weren't his thing.

"Oh, right. D'you have a boyfriend? Which is fine, by the way."

"I know it's fine."

John smiles, "So you've got a boyfriend then?"

"No."

Hannah gets up from her seat looking pale and sick an starts to walk away.

"Where are you going?" John asks.

"I need to go to the bathroom!" Hannah said shakily.

"Oh… okay!" and Hannah walked weakly out of sight

"I know this is none of my business… but what is wrong with Hannah?"

"You're right Doctor Watson it is none of your business."

John sighed, "If I'm going to live with you pair I need to know"

Sherlock looks down at his hand that was now stopped tapping, 'she has brittle bone and a weak immune system oh and asthma.'

"I'm sorry."

Sherlock shook his head, "it's fine, and she has the pills they help and the inhaler, they help'

John raised a brow, "when was she diagnosed with it?'

'She was two and she broke her collar bone and her leg and then they found out she also had immune system and asthma as well'

'I'm sorry to hear that'

"No, we are us to it'

"Oh… I see," said John as he plays with his food, "So you're unattached like me… good."

"John, um ... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm really not looking for any ..."

"No, I'm not asking. No. I'm just saying, it's all fine."

"Good... Thank you."

He turns his attention back to the street. John looks away with a bemused expression on his. Just then, Sherlock nods out of the window "Look across the street. Taxi."

John twists in his seat to look out of the window where a taxi has parked at the side of the road with its back end towards the restaurant.

"Stopped. Nobody getting in and nobody getting out."

"Why a taxi? Oh, that's clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?" Sherlock talks to himself.

"That's him?"

"Don't stare," Sherlock warns him.

"You're staring," John points out.

"We can't both stare."

Getting to his feet, he grabs his coat and scarf and heads for the door. John picks up his own jacket and follows ... completely forgetting to take his walking cane with him and they forgot Hannah

Angelo goes into the bathroom to find Hannah asleep slumped in a corner

"Hannah, are you alright?"

Hannah wakes and looks up at him, "yeah, were is Dad and John ?"

"I saw your father and his date dash out the restaurant couple minutes ago… do you want me to take you home?" he suggest.

Hannah stood up and shook her head, "I'm fine Angelo I can walk home from here." Angelo passed the two antibiotics bottles to Hannah 'your father left these on the table' Hannah took them 'thanks' Hannah checked them and counted the pills because her father sometimes takes one or two

"You sure? It's dark out there."

They walked out of the bathroom

Hannah puts on her grey overcoat that Angelo picked up for a nearby table, "I'm fine Angelo, and beside I'm twelve and its five minutes away!"

Angelo chuckles, "I will let your father you're on your way home."

"Grazie!"

Hannah starts to walk the dark road all by herself but she wasn't scared. As she continues to walk, a small black cab parks nearby and the window slowly turns down.


	8. Chapter 9

When Sherlock and John arrived at the flat, they found Lestrade and his followers doing a "drug bust" at their flat. Sherlock told them Rachel was actually a password to the dead pink lady's email on her phone, which has a GPS that could trace her phone. When they trace it the GPS located the phone in 221B Baker Street. Sherlock stood there, still putting it all together. On the landing, the taxi driver takes a pink smartphone from his pocket and sends a text. A moment later, Sherlock's own phone trills a text alert. Taking his phone from his pocket he looks at the message.

"Come with me," The taxi driver turns around and calmly goes down the stairs.

"Sherlock, you okay?" John asks looking concerned.

Sherlock vaguely watches the man go, "What? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"So, how can the phone be here?"

"Dunno," said Sherlock still watching the taxi driver.

"I'll try it again," said John as he gets his own phone out of his pocket.

"Good idea," said Sherlock as he heads to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won't be long," said Sherlock as he leaves the room.

"You sure you're all right?" John yells at him.

"I'm fine!"

Sherlock opens the front door and stands on the doorsteps. A taxi is parked at the curb and the driver is leaning calmly against the side of the cab, "Taxi for Sherlock Holmes."

"I didn't order a taxi."

The taxi driver smiles, "Doesn't mean you don't need one."

"You're the cabbie. The one who stopped outside Northumberland Street. It was you, not your passenger." Sherlock points out.

"See? No one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like you're invisible. Just the back of a head. Proper advantage for a serial killer.

Sherlock takes a few more steps forward, "Is this a confession?"

The taxi driver nods, "Oh, yeah. An' I'll tell you what else: if you call the coppers now, I won't run. I'll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise."

"Why?" Sherlock looks at him with curiosity.

"Cause you're not gonna do that."

"Am I not?" Sherlock raised a brow.

"I didn't kill those four people, Mr Holmes. I spoke to 'em… and they killed themselves. And if you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing. I will never tell you what I said."

Sherlock stares at him for a moment while the taxi driver straightens up and starts to walk around the cab, "No one else will die, though, and I believe they call that a result."

The taxi stops and turns back towards him, "And you won't ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about?"

He turns again and continues around to the driver's door and gets into the car. Biting his lip, Sherlock walks closer to the cab, looking up again at the flat window, and then he leans down and looks into the open side window of the cab, "If I wanted to understand, what would I do?"

The taxi driver looks at him and smiles, "Let me take you for a ride."

"So you can kill me too?"

"I don't wanna kill you, Mr Holmes. I'm gonna talk to you… and then you're gonna kill yourself."

Sherlock straightens up, his eyes lost in thought as he considers the situation. The taxi driver calmly sits gazing out of the window, then smiles as the rear door opens. When Sherlock gets in the car he sees his daughter sitting in the back seat of the car calmly but she was pale and shaking 'where are your pills?' he whispered 'I have em Mr Holmes' said the cabbie as he shook one of the two bottles

"why?" he demands as he saw the bottle in his hand

"Don't worry Mr Holmes only worry if you get this wrong."

…

In the flat, John has his phone held to his ear as he looks out of the window, "He just got in a cab."

"It's Sherlock. He just drove off in a cab," John looks at Lestrade.

"I told you, he does that. He bloddy left again. We're wasting our time!" said Donovan as she walks back into the kitchen.

"I'm calling the phone. It's ringing out," said John.

"If it's ringing, it's not here," said Lestrade.

"I'll try the search again," said John as he lowers his phone and reaches for the computer notebook.

"Does it matter? Does any of it? You know, he's just a lunatic, and he'll always let you down, and you're wasting your time. All our time," Donovan complains. Lestrade stares at her for a moment as she holds his gaze, then he sighs, "Okay, everybody. Done here!"

In the cab, Sherlock is watching the London scenery pass by, as Hannah was resting her head on his shoulder she was getting worse as they drove while his hands rest on her curly brown hair, "How did you find us?"

"Oh, I recognized you, soon as I saw you chasing my cab and your daughter was walking all by self I could see the resemblance. Sherlock Holmes! I was warned about you. I've been on your website, too. Brilliant stuff! Loved it!"

"Who warned you about me?"

"Just someone out there who's noticed you.

"Who? Who would notice me"

"You're too modest, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock shook his head, "I'm really not."

"You've got yourself a fan."

Sherlock sits back in his seat, "tell me more…"

"That's all you're gonna know in this lifetime," the taxi driver whispers.

…

Back in the flat, as the other officers leave, Lestrade picks up his coat and turns to John, "Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?"

John shrugs, "You know him better than I do."

"I've known him for five years and no, I don't."

"So why do you put up with him?"

"Because I'm desperate, that's why," Lestrade explains.

He walks to the door, then turns back, "And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if we're very very lucky, he might even be a good one."

Lestrade was about to leave until he notice something was different, "Doctor Watson

"Yes?"

"Where's Hannah ?"

John looks at him with confusion for a moment but then everything came to him… they left Hannah behind.

…

Some distance away, the cab drives on and finally stops at the front of two building side by side. The driver turns off the engine and gets out, coming to the passenger door and opening it. He looks in at Sherlock.

"Where are we?" Sherlock asks.

"You know every street in London. You know exactly where we are."

"Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?"

"It's open, cleaners are in. One thing about be in a cabbie you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out," he explains.

"And you just walk your victims in? How?" Sherlock raised a brow.

The driver raises a pistol and points it at Sherlock. Sherlock rolls his eyes, "Oh, dull."

"Don't worry. It gets better."

"You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint."

"I don't. It's much better than that," as he lowers the gun, "Don't need this with you, cause you'll follow me. Bring the girl with you," he confidently walks away. Sherlock sits for a moment then gets out of the cab, carries Hannah because she was too weak to walk, and he follows the man. The driver opens the door of a room and stands aside so that Sherlock can go in. Sherlock looks at him closely but steps inside the room, and then the driver releases the door and lets it closed as he walks over and turns on the lights. The men are in a large classroom.

"Well, what do you think?"

Sherlock raises his hands and shrugs.

"It's up to you. You're the one who's gonna die here."

Sherlock turns back to him, "No, I'm not."

The driver smirks, "That's what they all say."

"Shall we talk?" the driver gestures to one of the benches. The driver pulls out one of the chairs and sits down. Sherlock place Hannah on the chair she lays her head on the table and he also takes a chair from the bench in front. He sighs dramatically, "Bit risky, wasn't it? Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They're not that stupid. And Mrs Hudson will remember you."

"You call that a risk? Nah," said the driver as he reaches into his left pocket.

"This is a risk," he takes out a small glass bottle with a single large capsule inside. Sherlock looks at it but doesn't react in any way.

"Ooh, I like this bit. Cause you don't get it yet, do yer? But you're about to. I just have to do this," he reaches to his right pocket and takes out an identical bottle containing an identical capsule and puts it onto the table.

"You weren't expecting that, were you? Ooh, you're going to love this."

"Love what?" Sherlock raised a brow.

The driver sits back, "Sherlock Holmes, look at you! Here in the flesh. That website of yours, your fan told me about it."

"My fan?"

"You are brilliant. You are. A proper genius. The Science of Deduction. Now that is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting here, why can't people think?" he looks down angrily, "Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just think?"

"Oh, I see. So you're a proper genius too," said Sherlock sarcastically.

The driver scoffs, "Don't look it, do I? Funny little man driving a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are it'll be the last thing you ever know."

Sherlock looks down at the two bottles, "Okay, two bottles. Explain."

"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, your life; take the pull from the bad bottle, you die."

"Both bottles are of course identical."

"In every way."

"And you know which is which."

"Course I know."

"But I don't," Sherlock points out."

"Wouldn't be a game if you knew. You're the one who chooses."

"Why should I? I've got nothing to go on. What's in it for me?"

"I haven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one and then, together, we take our medicine. I won't cheat. It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't. Didn't expect that, did you, Mr Holmes?"

"What does Hannah has to do with this?" Sherlock demands.

The driver smirks, "If you choose the bad bottle… she'll die without her meds'

Sherlock narrow his eyes at him, "Why? Why her?"

"Because I can't live with another genius."

Sherlock scoff, "You think she's a genius?"

The driver leans close to him, "Of course I do Mr Holmes. I got to talk to her a little bit before weakness got to her. Smart child for her age of course she is when her father is a genius."

'How did she know about her illnesses?'

"Like I said your fan knows everything about you."

"If you keep the meds away from her, if she dies it be a bit suspicious because she's carefully with her pills she been taking them since she was six!' he scoffed

"I don't see how it's suspicious Mr Holmes. Everyone knows that see needs them frequently, maybe she just got held up and they couldn't get to them in time'

Sherlock glares at him but not saying a word.

"Enough with the chit chat. I want your best game."

"It's not a game. It's chance," Sherlock raises his voice."

"I've played four times. I'm alive. It's not chance, Mr Holmes, its chess. It's a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this ... this ... is the move." The driver slides the left hand bottle towards Sherlock, "Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one."

"You read yet, Mr Holmes? Ready to play?"

"Play what? It's a fifty-fifty chance," Sherlock points out.

"You're not playin' the numbers, you're playin' me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?"

"Still just chance."

"Four people in a row? It's not just chance."

"Luck," Sherlock adds.

"It's genius. I know how people think. I know how people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my head. Everyone's so stupid even you."

Sherlock glares at him.

"Or maybe God just loves me," the cabbie adds.

Sherlock straightens up and leans forward, folding his hands in front of him, "Either way, you're wasted as a cabbie."


	9. Chapter 10

"Time to play," said the cabbie as he nods down to the bottles.

Sherlock unfolds his fingers and place his hands into a pray position in front of his mouth, "Oh, I am playing. This is my turn. There's shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody's pointed it out to you. Traces of where it's happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there's no one to tell you. But there's a photograph of children. The children's mother has been cut out of the picture. If she'd died, she'd still be there. The photography's old but the frames new. You think of your children but you don't get to see them. Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts."

Sherlock then extends his index fingers, "Ah, but there's more. Your clothes recently laundered but everything you're wearing at least… three years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What's that about?"

The driver got control of himself again and show no signs of emotion.

"Ahh. Three years ago is that when they told you?" Sherlock asks softly.

"Told me what?" the cabbie snaps.

"That you're a dead man walking."

"So are you," the driver reminds him.

"You don't have long, though. Am I right?"

The cabbie smiles, "Aneurism," he lifts his hand and taps the side of his head, "Right in here. Any breath could be my last."

Sherlock frowns, "And because you're dying, you've just murdered four people."

"I've outlived four people. That's the most fun you can have on an aneurism," the driver corrects him.

"No. No, there's something else. You didn't just kill four people because you're bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. Somehow this is about your children."

The driver sighs, "Ohh. You are good, ain't you?"

"But how?"

"When I die, they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs."

"Or serial killing," Sherlock adds.

"You'd be surprised."

"Surprise me."

The driver leans forward, "I have a sponsor."

"You have a what?"

"For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they'll be. You see? It's nicer than you think. Mr Holmes would you do anything for your child?" said the driver as he looks at Hannah who had her head on the table eyes open looking at them blanklySherlock frowns, "Who'd sponsor a serial killer?"

"Who'd be a fan of Sherlock Holmes," the driver replies instantly.

"You're not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there just like you, except you're just a man… and they're so much more than that."

"What do you mean, more than a man? An organization? What?" Sherlock demands.

"There's a name no-one says, and I'm not gonna say it either. Now, enough chatter. Time to choose."

"What if I don't choose either? I could just walk out of here."

The driver sighs with disappointment and lifts up the pistol and points it at Sherlock, "You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head. Funnily enough, no one's ever gone for that option."

Sherlock smiles calmly, "I'll have the gun, please."

"Are you sure?"

Sherlock continuous to smile, "Definitely. The gun."

The driver slowly squeezes the trigger. A small flame burst out of the end of the muzzle which made Sherlock smile smugly, "I know a real gun when I see one."

Calmly the driver lifts the pistol and releases the trigger. The flame goes out.

"None of the others did."

"Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case," he stands up, carries Hannah in his arms and walks towards the door.

"Just before you go, did you figure it out?"

Sherlock stops at the door and half-turns towards him.

"Which one's the good bottle?"

Sherlock smiles, "Of course. Child's play."

"Well, which one, then?"

Sherlock opens the door a little but still hesitating if he should leave the room or continue the cabbies game

"Which one would you have picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you?"

Sherlock closes the door which made the driver chuckle, "Come one. Play the game."

Slowly Sherlock walks back towards him. He place Hannah on the chair once more and gets to the table, he reaches out and sweeps up the bottle that was near to the driver, then walks past him.

"Oh. Interesting," he picks up the other bottle as Sherlock looks down at the bottle in his own hand. The driver opened his bottle and tips the capsule out into his hand. He holds it up and looks at it closely as Sherlock examines his own bottle, "So what do you think? Shall we? Can you beat me? Are you clever enough to bet your life and your daughter?"

The driver continues to hold up his pill as he looks at Sherlock, "I bet you get bored, don't you? I know you do. A man like you so clever. But what's the point of being clever if you can't prove it?"

Sherlock takes out the capsule and raise it to the light to examine it more closely.

"Still the addict, but this… this is what you really addicted to."

Slowly Sherlock lowers the pill again, holding it at eye level and gazing at it.

"You'd do anything… anything at all…"

Sherlock fingers begin to tremble with excitement and anticipationg.

"To stop being bored."

Sherlock begins to move the pill closer to his mouth.

"You're not bored now, are you? Isn't it good?"

Then a gunshot rings out and a bullet impacts on the drivers chest, then goes through his body and smashes into the wall behind him. As he falls to the floor, Sherlock drops his pill in surprise. Hannah began shuddering in her sit. Sherlock turns, slides over the desk behind him and hurries to the window. When he look at the building that the bullet came from there was nobody in sight. As Sherlock straightens up, the driver breathes heavily while Hannah tries stay still but fails and begins sobbing. Sherlock turns back, sees the pill lying on the desk he picks up the pill, kneels down, "Was I right? I was, wasn't I? Did I get it right?"

The driver's only reply was a scoff. Sherlock angrily throws the pill across the room and stands up, "Okay, tell me this: Your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me. My fan. I want a name."

"No," the driver replied weakly.

"You're dying, but there's still time to hurt you. Give me a name."

The driver shook his head. Sherlock places his foot on the driver's shoulder.

"A name! Now! THE NAME!" he yells furiously.

"MORIARTY!" the driver yells his eyes close and his head rolls to the side.

Sherlock steps back, turning his head away and looking reflective. Then he heard a little sob from the table. He grabbed Hannah's meds from the cabbie he quickly walked over to Hannah and laid her fully on the table "Hannah, swallow, quick" Sherlock orders calmly as he lifts her back up and gave her the two pills and put them into her mouth Hannah swallowed quickly Sherlock looks at her with a hurtful expression, "Hannah I'm sorry I shouldn't have left you alone in Angelo's.." Hannah looks at him with confusion then it dawns on her

'maybe this … will teach you to more careful' Sherlock chuckled at his daughters remark

Hannah quickly gets better and more colour goes into her face

Sherlock smirks, "you okay," she nodded she smiled

Later Sherlock was sitting on the back steps of an ambulance, a paramedic puts an orange blanket around on their shoulders as Lestrade walks over.

"Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me," he looks at the blanket with hate.

"Yeah, it's for shock."

"I'm not in shock," Sherlock protest.

Lestrade nods, "Yeah, but your daughter may be going to the hospital . And some of the guys wanna take photographs," he smiles while Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"Who killed the man Lestrade?" Hannah asks as she looks weakly at Lestrade she was laid out on a stretcher a paramedic told her she was fine and then she slowly got off the stretcher and stood next to her father

Lestrade shook his head, "We don't know Hannah… Cleared off before we got here but a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but got nothing to go on."

Sherlock looks at him pointedly, "Oh, I wouldn't say that."

Lestrade roll his eyes," Okay, gimme."

Sherlock stands up, "The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon – that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatised to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service ..."

While Sherlock was doing his deduction Hannah looks around and saw John standing behind the police tape, Hannah tugs the little curls at the back of his head

"Not now Hannah! And nerves of steel…" he trails off as John looks back at him innocently and turns his head away. Sherlock begins to realize, "Actually, do you know what? Ignore me."

"Sorry?" Lestrade looks at him with confusion.

"Ignore all of that. It's just the, the shock talking," said Sherlock as he starts to walk towards John.

"Where're you going?"

" I just need to talk about the rent," Sherlock explains.

"But I've still got questions for you."

Sherlock turns around, "Oh, What now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!"

"Sherlock!"

"And I just caught you a serial killer… more or less' Lestrade shot him a look that reminded Hannah of a parents reaction to an extreme fib

Lestrade looks at them thoughtfully for a moment, "Okay, we'll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go."

Sherlock walks away, taking the blanket from his shoulders, Sherlock bundles it up and offers it to Hannah" Here, you can keep it. 'nope!' Hannah threw into a police car

Sherlock and Hannah were now approaching to John who was standing at the side of a police car, "Um, Sargent Donovan's just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Dreadful."

"Good shot," Sherlock whispers.

"Yes, Yes, must have been through that window," said John trying to look innocent.

"John, we know it's you," Hannah points out.

"Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case," Sherlock whispers to him.

"But he wasn't a very nice man."

Both Sherlock and Hannah nods in agreement," No. No, he wasn't really, was he?"

"And frankly a bloody awful cabbie," All three of them chuckles, and then they all start to walk away.

"That's true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!"

John giggles and Sherlock smiles. Hannah shot them both a look

"Stop! Stop, we can't giggle, it's a crime scene! Stop it!" John shunned them

"You're the one who shot him. Don't blame me."

"Keep your voice down!" John snaps at him as they walk past Sergeant Donovan.

"Sorry, it's just, um, nerves, I think," said John.

"Sorry."

"You were gonna take that damned pill, weren't you?"

Sherlock turns back to him, "Course I wasn't. Biding my time. Knew you'd turn up."

"No, you didn't! You were going to take that pill! If you only you knew both of them were poison," Hannah points out.

'why didn't you tell me?'

'I COULDN'T SPEAK'

Sherlock stops and looks at her, "I'm sorry'

Hannah nods, "Yeah."

"How did you know both of them were bad?" John asks.

Hannah smiles at him, "Because he wasn't planning to take the pill."

John looks at Sherlock, "It's how you get your kicks, isn't it? You both risk your life's to prove you're clever."

"Why would we do that?"

"Because you're both an idiots"

After a moment Sherlock smiles, "Dinner?"

"Starving!"

"But I'm famished!" Hannah grins.

"Oh, stop complaining we'll get to eat soon " said Sherlock as they start to walk again.

"End of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese stays open 'til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle." said Hannah

A car pulls up and the man who kidnapped John steps out of the black car, "Sherlock. That's him. That's the man I was talking to you about."

Sherlock looks at the man, "I know exactly who that is ."

He walks closer to the man and stops looking at him angrily,

"So, another case cracked. How very public spirited ... though that's never really your motivation, is it?"

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock raised his voice.

"I'm concerned about you and Hannah" the man explains.

"Yes, I've been hearing about your concern."

"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"

"Oddly enough, no!" Sherlock replies sarcastically.

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upset Mummy."

John frowns as if unsure of what he just heard.

"I upset her? Me?" Sherlock looks at the man with confusion, "It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft!"

"No, no, wait… mummy? Who's mummy?"

"Mother… our mother. This is my brother, Mycroft."

"Hello Mycroft," Hannah smiles mysteriously at him.

"Hello to you to Hannah, how are you?"

Hannah shrugs' the usual, how's being the British government?'

Mycroft shot her a look

Mycroft smiles, "now Hannah-"

"Putting on weight again?" Sherlock interrupts Mycroft.

"Losing it, in fact."

"He's your brother?" John asks confused

"Of course he's my brother!"

"So he's not…" John trails off not wanting to sound idiotic

"Not what?"

"I dunno a criminal mastermind?"

Sherlock looks at Mycroft with disgust, "Close enough."

Mycroft rolls his eyes, "For goodness' sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government."

"He is the British government, when he's not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis. Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic," said Sherlock as he walks away.

"Bye Mycroft, keep up the diet!" Hannah waves as she follows behind her father.

"So, when you say you're concerned about them, you actually are concerned?"

"Yes, of course."

"I mean, it actually is a childish feud?"

"He's always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners," said Mycroft as he still looks at his brother.

"Yeah… no. God, no!" he turns to follow Sherlock, "I-I'd better, umm… Hello again," said John as he looks at Anthea who looks up from her phone and smiles at him brightly, "Hello!"

"Yes, we met earlier on this evening."

She stares at him for a moment then remembers who he is, "Oh!"

"Okay, good night!" said John as he catches up to Sherlock and Hannah

"I can always predict the fortune cookies," said Sherlock with pride.

"No, you can't."

Sherlock smirks, "Almost can. You did get shot, though."

"Sorry?"

"In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound."

"Oh, yeah. Shoulder."

"Told you so!" Hannah says to Sherlock.

"Shoulder! I thought so," said Sherlock ignoring Hannah .

John shook his head, "No, you didn't."

"The left one." Said Hannah

"Lucky guess."

"we never guess." Hannah and Sherlock shoot John a glare

Hannah and Sherlock smile into the night

"What are you so happy about?" John asks.

"Moriarty," Sherlock whispers.

"Who's Moriarty?" Hannah mused

"I've absolutely no idea!" Sherlock replies cheerfully.


End file.
